


I am become Death

by zeplum



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-22
Updated: 2009-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 16:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeplum/pseuds/zeplum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Monkeying with "canon" to be expected. Modern-AU setting implied. Title taken from Oppenheimer, by way of the Bhagavad Gita, [and heard in The Hunt for Red October] in a collective sort of way.</p>
    </blockquote>





	I am become Death

**Author's Note:**

> Monkeying with "canon" to be expected. Modern-AU setting implied. Title taken from Oppenheimer, by way of the Bhagavad Gita, [and heard in The Hunt for Red October] in a collective sort of way.

They've looked for a cause, but never dared to hope for a cure.

She long ago gave up on the idea of finding either.

*

She is hideous in a special way, a way that could only be punishment from the gods themselves. Personally, Medusa thinks that the various curses and maladies of her family are all linked back to the gods in one way or another. It is the only way to explain her three mad, blind, and toothless sisters, collectively known to the world of men as the Graeae.

They had tried to live in the world, only to have the shunning become reality, forced deep into the mountains where only fools venture.

But Medusa had only been a child when her affliction had set in. She'd been beautiful before that, and old enough to remember her life before things changed, before she became a monster. Punishment two fold, she thinks, except she'd never done anything wrong to deserve _this_.

*

From a distance, people still see a beautiful young woman, slender and lithe, fair of face. It is only after a few moments, or out of the corner of their eye that they see the horror that Medusa really is.

A face that could kill if she willed it, or to turn men to stone; hair a nest of vipers, deadly to all those save herself. It is all a cruel joke, as in her heart, Medusa is not yet so cold and damaged to be the monster the gods clearly intended her to be.

She's still a girl. She likes her music and her books, long walks in the olive groves outside of town – she likes boys, dreams of them kissing her under the grape arbors. Instead, the other girls at school laugh at her as she walks down the hall, head bowed and trying to sink into the earth. And the boys, depending on the day, behave better or worse than their girlfriends.

The adults look on her with a mix of scorn, pity and fear, fully believing that she must have brought this on herself somehow. There are the murmurings of "She was such a _nice_ girl," and all the unspoken words that follow such a comment. And above all, they fear that _this_ could happen to _them_.

*

The worst of is that Medusa can feel her heart growing black, indifferent, menacing. She's heard the prophesy spoken by her sisters' – she _will_ be a horror, she _will_ bring death, her name will be spoken to frighten children, and one day her death will be part of a hero's glory.

The beautiful, quiet girl will be forever forgotten. All that will be left is the nightmare.

*

The affliction has no cure, and no one can escape prophesy.


End file.
